


A Blacklist Midsummer Night's Dream

by NeedTheDark



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Crack Fic, Donald Ressler's trousers, Everybody getting it on with Everybody, Lizzington cause I can't not, Midsummer Night's Dream, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedTheDark/pseuds/NeedTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The agents of the post office imbibe a drug which leaves them crazy in love and totally helpless. Can Reddington save the day? Will Donald get his trousers back? 2 part CRACK FIC Xmas gift for the indomitable Catherine Medici. Rude, crude, smutty, nutty, angsty. Lizzington lens but lots of other pairings too. With strong language. You probably shouldn’t read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catherine_Medici](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherine_Medici/gifts).



> To dear Catherine. Happy Christmas/New Year and sorry for all this nonsense. :-) Fucking DISCLAIMED with a capital D.

It was past 5 in the evening on a Friday when Liz returned to the post office, her limbs aching and her favorite leather jacket ripped. _Why do they always run_ she thought huffily as she played back the afternoon's events in her head. This wasn't even a blacklister; it was a snivelling little snitch who did some low level dealing for a guy who worked for a blacklister. _Oh he'll be no trouble_ Reddington had said dismissively. No trouble my ass she grumbled to herself. As she exited the clanking yellow elevator she examined the tattered sleeve of her jacket ruefully and considered briefly what Reddington would say if she sent him the bill. Moneybags would probably buy her another apartment and fill it full of jackets, like that would fix the clusterfuck that was their relationship.

Part of her wondered whether he had sent her on a wild goose chase on purpose. It would be just like that arrogant son of a bitch to teach her a lesson by having her chase pointlessly after a spineless nark. Nonetheless, the infuriating, fedora-wearing deviant was coming in later for a report, and she was now faced with the unpleasant task of informing him and her colleagues that the target had gotten away.

As she rounded the corner she was surprised to hear laughter - Aram's nervous little chuckle, a sultry purr from Samar and someone who sounded like Ressler, although she didn't think she'd ever heard him properly laugh before, ginger little sour-puss that he was.

"Liz!" Aram waved cheerily, spilling some liquid from a paper cup in his hand. "You're just in time! TGI Friday, eh?"

Liz frowned. "Just in time for what?"

Samar beckoned to her with a playful little smile. "One of the clerks found a crate of wine left over from the 4th July and we figured what the hell – it's Friday. It's been a tough week. Especially for you, by the looks of things…" Samar approached her and examined her torn sleeve before looking earnestly into her eyes. She raised her hand slowly to her face and stroked her cheek softly with her thumb. "You ok?"

Liz laughed nervously, stepping back. Ok, that was weird... "Yeah fine – the snitch got away though, I'll have a mountain of paperwork to do to explain that" she sighed.

Ressler snorted. "You take everything too seriously Keen – lighten up before you get recruited by the fun police."

 _What the_ … She raised her eyebrows incredulously.

"Have some wine Liz, and chill. Turn on… tune in… and cop out!" the ginger finished in a deep voice, grinning sloppily.

Reluctantly, she accepted the paper cup he offered. "Jeez you guys…Ok you're on, but I need to write up some notes before I join you. I'll be in my office."

As she left the main floor she looked back – it was dark in there, but for a moment she could have sworn she saw Ressler put his hand on Aram's ass.

* * *

 

About an hour later, Assistant Director Harold Cooper stepped out of his office and sauntered onto the raised walkway that looked out over the main floor of the black site. It afforded him a view of his kingdom, which although little more than a clandestine tin-can, was where some of the finest agents in the country busted their asses to thwart the world's most dangerous terrorists. He was so proud of them.

Ressler, dependable and by the book, was a stalwart if rather inflexible second in command. Aram's interminably nervous disposition and formidable intellect had served them well over the years. Samar, something of a wild card, had nonetheless acclimatised well, making herself indispensable. She was, of course, Reddington's plant. Cooper didn't give a shit. She was a good agent, and it was predictable that Reddington would want someone on the inside. Someone to protect his interests…

That brought Cooper to the final member of the task force, Elizabeth Keen, a little firecracker of whom he had grown rather fond – protective even. He knew that when it came to her, Reddington couldn't be trusted. Call it a father's instinct, but there was something in the way the debonair concierge of crime looked at the young agent that made Cooper want to dangle a shotgun from his arm and tell Reddington to have her back by 11pm, no matter how powerful and dangerous the man might be.

He shook his head and refocussed on the scene below him. Aram sat at his desk, still working on a Friday evening he observed proudly – so dedicated, so professional… A second later Cooper blinked as he watched what looked like a pair of feet rise up over Aram's shoulders, accompanied by a breathy laugh. His confusion quickly turned to horror as he saw Samar arching up off Aram's desk, playfully caressing his beard with her bare foot. His stomach heaved when he heard Aram bark like a Chihuahua in heat before nipping at her toes with his teeth.

Cooper fled back to his office with his eyes averted, slamming the door behind him. _What in the name of God had he just witnessed?_

Shaking his head, he looked up and started in surprise. Ressler had slipped into his office and was leaning casually against the desk.

"Knock next time Agent Ressler" Cooper chastised. "I've had enough surprises for one day – did you know about Agents Navabi and Mojtabai?"

Ressler quirked an eyebrow. "They're…intimate" he shrugged lazily.

Cooper frowned, taken aback by the agent's blasé attitude. "And you didn't think to tell me? Staff relationships are against agency policy, and needless to say that includes flagrant toe-sucking!"

Ressler's lips curved into a sly smile. "I'm sorry sir, but the truth is I, ah, dropped the ball on this one. I've been a bad boy, and I deserve to be punished..."

It took a few seconds for Cooper to process what he had heard – it was like his brain had suddenly decided to take a vacation somewhere where his agents weren't behaving in a way which made him want to remove his own eyes with a fork.

By the time he came to his senses, the ginger agent was bending over his desk fumbling ineptly with his belt buckle.

 _"Oh god no no no"_ Cooper moaned. "Agent Ressler stop whatever you're doing right now, THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Ressler threw him a flirtatious smile over his shoulder, before slowly and deliberately lowering his pants to the floor.

* * *

 

Reddington was uncharacteristically nervous as he took the elevator down to the black site. It was a bit of a stretch sending Lizzie after the snitch and she would surely have seen through his ruse by now. She'd reduced him to this, he thought bitterly; determined to believe he was using her she had become snide and distant, so much so that he had been forced to invent a task for her just so that he would have an excuse to see her. His only hope was that her hurt feelings indicated that she cared for him in some way. _Pathetic_ , he said to himself scathingly. As the elevator shuddered to the ground he twisted his features into a mask of indifference, straightened his fedora and swept elegantly through the doors.

The scene which befell him was bordering on indescribable, though if anyone was up to the task, it was Raymond Reddington. The first thing in his line of sight was Aram and Samar engaged in a positively acrobatic embrace on a desk, her ankles crossed behind his neck while she tried to reach for his belt. Reddington cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. Agent Navabi was certainly as limber as he might have guessed, though lacking in grace, he concluded, observing the cracked screen of a laptop where it lay discarded on the floor, presumably a casualty of passion.

This bizarre little vignette was punctuated by plaintive cries coming from the walkway above.

"Sir! Come back sir! I've been such a bad, bad boy – punish me! Punish meeeeeeeeee!"

Reddington looked up slowly to see Agent Ressler bouncing up and down on the walkway, his pants round his ankles.

"Reddington!" Cooper exclaimed behind him. "I never thought I'd be glad to see you. I need to get the hell out of here!"

Reddington turned to face him. "But then who will punish Agent Ressler?" he said solemnly with a twinkle in his eye. "He's been such a bad boy."

"I'm glad you think this is funny" Cooper snapped. "There's something seriously off here and I can't figure out what it is while I'm being plagued by the image of Donald Ressler's bare white ass" he finished with a haunted expression on his face.

Reddington laughed gently. "Well if you can ignore Captain America's positively patriotic little tush for just a moment you'll notice the empty bottle of wine on Agent Mojtabai's desk and three cups – I think it's likely that Agents Ressler, Navabi and Mojtabai have ingested a drug of some sort which has resulted in this behavior."

As he spoke Aram and Samar untangled themselves and made their way towards him, while Cooper stepped away nervously. Reddington observed Samar's tiny tank top with interest – how delightfully unconcerned with appropriate workwear the woman seemed to be. He briefly recalled their first meeting in which he was tied to a chair while she circled him predatorily. _So…the predator becomes the prey_ he thought wryly as the lethal former Mossad agent sank to her knees in front of him, staring up at him suggestively with doe eyes, her hand trailing up his pant leg. He enjoyed the sight immensely, and was about to comment when he was distracted by Aram's timorous voice next to his ear.

"Mr Reddington, I know we've had our differences - like that time you asked me to steal 5 million dollars and threatened to kill me - but I have to tell you I really feel we have a connection. You're a great man Mr Reddington, a powerful and attractive man-"

"I am rather, aren't I?" Reddington cut him off smugly, resisting the temptation to allow the poor guy to disgrace himself further. He looked down at Samar who was gazing hungrily up at him. She licked her lips and proceeded to reach for his zipper. He groaned in frustration before regretfully cupping her chin in his hand and bringing her gently to her feet.

"Agent Navabi, whilst I'm exceedingly gratified, I suspect the delicious post-orgasmic high you would no doubt bestow upon me would be dampened somewhat when you return to your senses and gut me like a fish for having taken advantage of you, and so regretfully I'll have to resist your _manifold_ charms on this occasion."

She frowned, and Reddington smoothly put out his hands, one on her back and one on Aram's, gently directing their attention back to one another.

Cooper appeared behind him as the agents began what looked like a face-eating competition. "Now do you see the problem?" he said with more than a note of disgust in his voice.

Reddington nodded, grimacing. "I do. Agent Mojtabai has all the finesse of a squid eating a French fry."

Cooper glared at him.

"Yes, yes, this is quite the predicament" Reddington continued conversationally "- I saw something similar in a brothel in Thailand years ago. It was one of the best nights of my life until the local police came to break up the party and ended up sampling the drug themselves as corrupt officers in rural towns are wont to do – every single one of them was armed with a truncheon Harold, I'd have been better off spending a week in jail with ten Cambodian street wrestlers" his finished, shuddering at the memory.

Cooper winced and shook his head. "Well at least this lot don't seem dangerous."

Reddington looked at him sharply, his expression serious for the first time. "There's _nothing_ more dangerous than a love drug Harold, make no mistake" he warned, his voice dark. "Love makes you powerless…" he added quietly, looking about him. "Where is Agent Keen?"

"She clocked in an hour ago and I haven't seen her since. There's no reason to think she's been affected."

Reddington nodded, chewing his cheek. "Keep this lot out of trouble Harold, I'm going to retrieve her. I suggest you gather everyone together in the break room, and if you have any spare handcuffs lying about I'd make use of them before someone gets hurt. Or pregnant" he added, glancing back at Aram and Samar.

"I'd appreciate it if you could return quickly" Cooper said distractedly. He didn't like the way Ressler was looking at him from the walkway, a school boy glint in his eye as he shuffled about in his boxers.

Reddington followed Cooper's gaze to Ressler's cheeky grin and chuckled drily. "Oh don't worry Harold – he's nothing you can't handle. And if he gets too much we could always put a leash on him. A resident gimp would be just the ticket to match the décor in here and I'm sure Donald would perform admirably in the role."

Scandalized, Cooper began to splutter a response but Reddington had already moved away down the dark corridor, humming a jaunty tune to himself.

* * *

 

The post office was dark and quiet, and much as he had maintained an unaffected air around Cooper, Reddington was privately worried. He'd feel much better once he found Elizabeth. He walked past her office, and although the blinds were drawn he detected a hint of movement. He opened the door and was relieved to find her sitting at her desk as though this was a normal day and he had just dropped in to see her. Perhaps she hadn't imbibed the drug along with the others. He hoped oh so dearly that she hadn't. He would find that behavior from her…challenging.

"Good afternoon Lizzie – no time for pleasantries I'm afraid. Your colleagues seem to have succumbed to the effects of a rather strange drug and I wonder if you might join Director Cooper and the rest of the team in the break room until the situation has been resolved" he said stiffly.

She looked up from the papers she was studying and drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment. "How bizarre. What kind of drug?" she responded.

Reddington scanned her face for signs of inebriation but saw nothing out of the ordinary, other than her cheeks being a little more pink than usual. But it was very warm, even in the depths of the black site, he reasoned.

"All will be explained, I assure you. If you'd be so kind as to accompany me" he continued guardedly.

Liz picked up a pen and tapped it against her bottom lip as if deep in thought. "Hmmm. I think I'd like to stay here, Red. With you. I'd feel much safer that way."

For a moment his heart soared to hear those words from her, to hear that she felt safe with him, but he had to admit that it didn't sound like something she would say. They really were not on the best of terms, he thought regretfully. He was still considering his next move when she rose from her seat and came out from behind her desk.

 _Oh God_. His breath caught in his throat. She wasn't wearing _pants_. She stood before him, biting her bottom lip provocatively, the hem of her lilac shirt grazing her bare thighs.

"You little _minx_ " he choked under his breath as he caught sight of the white paper cup on the filing cabinet behind her.

She smiled softly and took a step backward, hopping up on the desk with her legs slightly parted.

He swallowed hard, his tongue rolling in his mouth for a moment as he tried to find the words to speak.

"What's the matter Red" she said breathily "don't like what you see?" she finished mischievously.

Oh he liked what he saw alright. She was divine. A goddess with alabaster skin, long, graceful legs and womanly hips that her run-of-the-mill pant suits did not in any way do justice to. He tried to keep his eyes at the level of her face but his thoughts were scattered.

 _Oh Christ, was she even wearing underwear?_ He glanced down and noted a tiny scrap of black lace covering her modesty. He'd seen ladies of the evening in Amsterdam with more substantial undergarments. Was this seriously the kind of thing she usually wore to work under those suits? How marvelously impractical! _And how marvelous._ He looked up at the ceiling for a moment in a tremendous effort to compose himself as he felt the inevitable warmth spread below his belly.

"Elizabeth please put your pants back on and come with me" he said tightly.

"And exactly how are you going to make me _cum_ with you Red?" she giggled suggestively, lightly swinging her legs as they dangled over the edge of the desk like a naughty school girl. He watched in horror as she raised her hands to her shirt and began to undo the buttons.

 _Fuck_ , it was too damned much. She was going to kill him. Actually _kill_ him. "Lizzie!" he said sharply. "Get down from there, get dressed and come with me now" he said in as stern a tone as he could muster.

Her face crumpled into an adorable pout, her lower lip jutting out. Oh how he wanted to kiss that plump little lip of hers, he wanted to suck on it, run his tongue over it. He briefly wondered what the point was of being a reviled criminal mastermind if his conscience prevented him from having the fun that goes with it. He pushed the thought quickly aside.

Striding over to her, he lightly tapped her bottom and she slipped off the desk obediently. He looked around cursorily for her pants but couldn't see them. Sighing, he removed his jacket and she allowed him to slip it on her, gently guiding her arms into the giant sleeves.

"That will have to do for now" he said unhappily.

"It smells like you" she said smiling up at him adoringly. His heart broke a little then.

* * *

 

He walked her to the break room and couldn't help but smile at the scene which greeted him. Cooper was standing in the corner as far away from his agents as possible, his arms folded and a look of pure horror on his face. Aram and Samar were handcuffed to a heating pipe with their backs to one another, wriggling and twisting their necks in an attempt to kiss. Ressler was sitting alone, cuffed to a filing cabinet, his knees drawn up around his ears and his head bent studiously.

Red regarded the ginger agent curiously. "Harold… is he trying to-"

"Yes." Cooper snapped, cutting him off.

"On himself…"

"It appears so" Cooper finished testily.

Red nodded sagely. "You know I once came across a man in Kuala Lumpur with a voracious sexual appetite, insatiable man; he had three ribs removed just so that he could fellate himself, and I often wondered-"

"I am not having this conversation with you!" Cooper cut him off sharply.

Red shrugged and ushered a giggling Liz onto a couch in the corner, where she sat eyeing him, enraptured. Suddenly there was a loud clang from across the room and they turned to find Ressler straining and kicking against his cuffs, banging the locked drawer of the cabinet.

"She's mine" he growled, wriggling on his bottom towards Samar as far as his bonds would allow.

Aram scoffed as he twisted round the heating pipe. "I've loved her since the moment I set eyes on her you arrogant ginger prick."

"Weasel-faced nerd" Ressler shot back.

"What's happening now?" Cooper asked exasperatedly.

Reddington sighed. "It appears that Donald has finally given up his attempt at self-gratification and is now attempting to enlist the services of agent Navabi, much to the outrage of agent Mojtabai who, I believe, has a prior claim. It's positively Shakespearean."

As Reddington spoke he watched Samar rise slowly to her feet, working her cuffs up the heating pipe behind her.

"But none of that matters" she said in a sultry drawl "because I find myself drawn to another man entirely. Someone distinguished, someone…dangerous…" As she spoke her heavy-lidded gaze was set on Reddington.

Before he could respond, he saw Liz rush past him in a blur and land a hard, open-palmed slap right across Samar's face.

"You little tramp!" she hissed and Reddington's jaw dropped open in genuine shock.

"Agent Keen!" Cooper cried indignantly.

"How dare you!" she continued obliviously, her blue eyes shining with rage. "You wanted to know if you're stepping on my toes? Well you are! He's mine, and he always has been!"

Reddington knew he should step in but he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to believe his ears. _It's just the drug_ he told himself desperately.

Samar sneered at her smugly, tossing her hair. "You're pathetic Liz – you can't see what's right in front of you – hell, you didn't even realize your own husband was a criminal plant. Face it – you're a frigid, whiny little bitch."

The room echoed with the sound of Liz's fist connecting with Samar's face, and the ensuing noise was deafening – Samar's indignant screeching and kicking, Ressler and Aram shouting and clanging like rabid monkeys trying to get free and Liz's cries as she moved in on Samar again.

Reddington stepped forward quickly and wrapped his arms around Liz before pulling her away from the other agents, hissing and kicking.

"Agent Keen, calm down!" he said forcefully as she struggled in his arms, and then more gently "Lizzie, Lizzie…It's alright, I'm here. You have me" he added quietly, not meeting Cooper's eye.

"But I don't!" she cried angrily. "You don't want me."

Reddington chewed the inside of his cheek, his expression pained. "Sweetheart, you're under the influence of a very powerful drug – you don't know what you're saying…"

He felt the moment something changed in her; she went very still in his arms, and he could practically feel the tension crackling. She slowly stepped out of his grasp and turned to face him, her eyes bright with cold fury.

"You're telling me how I really feel now? You've been manipulating me since the start, maybe even since before I joined the bureau. You made me love you and now you're taking that away from me too!"

His breath hitched as she withdrew her hand from the pocket of his jacket that she wore, her shaking fingers raising the barrel of the Beretta 950 he kept there for emergencies.

"Lizzie put the gun down" he said quietly, his voice like soft, rolling thunder. "Give it to me" he continued, taking slow steps towards her, watching intently as her hand shook and her eyes focused and unfocused. Never taking his eyes from hers, he continued forward until the barrel of the gun was pressed into his chest. She seemed calmed by his proximity, and broke into a girlish smile as he reached her. She giggled happily as he took the gun from her unresisting hand and drew her to him in a soft embrace. "Harold" he murmured, and the chastened director wordlessly took the gun from him and placed a set of cuffs in his hand. Reddington pushed Liz gently down on the couch and secured her hands behind her back as she wriggled coquettishly in protest.

As the cuffs clicked shut around her wrists his mind assaulted him with fantasies he'd had of her cuffed to his bed, at his mercy, begging him to allow her to climax after hours of sensuous torture. He wondered if her tastes ran that way…he would never know. He closed his eyes and grimaced, blinking the images away. This was torture, but not the fun kind he thought bleakly as the girl stared vacantly at his chest, apparently now mesmerized by his tie.

Stroking her hair soothingly, he looked up at Cooper, his expression grim. "Do you still think they're not dangerous, Harold?"

Cooper surveyed the scene in front of him unhappily. "They're getting worse – more erratic, more violent. And they seem to develop new obsessions at the drop of a hat. How are we going to cure them? And should I even ask what happened to Agent Keen's pants?" he added suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

"Those are very good questions Harold" Reddington responded smoothly whilst extricating his tie from between Liz's teeth "but I think the more pressing point is how you and I are going to prepare for the impending attack."

Cooper stared at him blankly. "What attack?"

Reddington turned to face him. "Oh come now Harold – don't tell me you were so distracted by your team's nympho-maniacal shenanigans that you've failed to appreciate the bigger picture here."

"We're vulnerable" Cooper said slowly, realization dawning.

Reddington gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "We're more than vulnerable - your entire team is incapacitated Harold. I'd say we're as wide open as Agent Ressler over there. Someone has orchestrated this entire thing and they'll be all over our asses like a pack of starving ferrets before you know it. There will be a breach of this facility imminently - I guarantee it."

To be continued…


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second and final installment. Who's after them? Will the agents prevail? Will anyone get their pants back on? This fucking awful chapter breaks the 4th wall (refers to the writers/audience) and also brings back a deceased character. Just go with it. Also fair warning, it's damned rude, and dark, because comedy is – just ask Shakespeare. Disclaimed so hard.

"… _There will be a breach of this facility imminently - I guarantee it._ "

No sooner had Reddington uttered this ominous statement than a great tremor redolent of a bomb blast ran through the building.

Steadying himself, Cooper grabbed his phone, jabbing at the screen and then trying the land line. "They've taken out the comms! Reddington, at this point I'm open to suggestions. This building is supposed to be impenetrable since the last attack."

Reddington clicked his tongue and looked around him. "I've found that nothing and nobody on this earth is impenetrable. One sometimes has to be a little creative of course… I'm suddenly reminded of Tabitha Bronson's chastity belt-" Reddington broke off as he saw the look on Cooper's face. "Ah, anyway, knowledge as simple as the fact that a building contractor's nephew requires a heart transplant can be the key to breaking into a sealed bank vault. There's always a way in if you know where to apply pressure" he finished darkly.

Cooper scoffed in disgust. "There may be a way in… but is there a way out? And what about this lot?" He gestured to the wriggling agents cuffed and squirming in front of them like a basket of rabbits in heat.

Reddington rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the Beretta, shoving it into the waistband of his slacks. "We're going to need weapons Harold – you have to get us to the armory." He paused and shook his head anxiously. "We can't take the nymphs with us, they'll have to stay here. We'll need to lock them in and draw the intruders away from this area. And kill the lights – we'll fare better under cover of darkness."

"Done" Cooper said. "Let's go."

Reddington paused thoughtfully as he felt slim hands cup him tightly through his pants. He could just make out Lizzie's face, smiling at him over her shoulder almost sweetly as she skilfully maneuvered her cuffed hands into his crotch. He silently gave thanks for the fact that they were now in darkness. Very gingerly extricating his gonads from her not inconsiderable grip, he motioned to Cooper to follow, and they slipped out of the break room, locking the door behind them.

* * *

 

As they moved stealthily through the darkened building they heard voices echoing, growing louder. There was one voice in particular that made Reddington's skin crawl. It can't be he thought, although as they reached the armory and that voice became louder and louder he was left with no doubt as to whom he was dealing with.

"Red?" The voice echoed, muffled and monstrous in the corridors. "Oh, Reeeed? I know you're here. Why don't you come out and play? Get out here you sanctimonious old tosser."

"The rest I can live with, but _old?_ " Reddington sniffed.

"Putting aside the finer points of your character, please tell me this isn't what I think it is" Cooper said, panicked.

Reddington walked over to the camera display units, checking screen after screen of live black site footage until he saw the intruders storming down one of the corridors. "I'm sorry Harold" he said, pointing at the screen. "It's exactly what you think it is… It's Anslo Garrick part 3."

"I thought you killed him?!" Cooper cried incredulously.

"So did I Harold, but if life has taught me anything it's that if a man survives being shot in the face at point blank range he'll probably survive being stabbed in the neck with a small pair of scissors. Anslo Garrick is like a mangy stray cat, he has nine lives in the bag and nine more he stole from a dead guy. Now grab every weapon you can carry – let's see if we can't level the playing field."

Reddington and Cooper left the cache armed to the teeth, both with the inevitable swagger that goes with having a Remington 12 gauge in each hand and the knowledge that men of a certain age wearing suits and carrying guns are hot as hell.

They took the interlopers by surprise on the detainment floor and managed to take out a good number of Garrick's men, but it was no use. They were outnumbered and had a handful of bullets left between them. As they retreated they found themselves stuck between Garrick's onslaught and the giant containment box.

"Reddington!" Cooper said in a harsh whisper. "Get in the box now – it's our only hope."

Reddington groaned. "That damned box. I'm getting a horrible sense of déjà vu Harold. I hate being predictable."

"Take it up with the writers. I'm not concerned with your public image Reddington, I'm trying to save our necks."

"Fine" Reddington grumbled as they stepped into the box backwards, firing at Garrick's men as they went. "At least this time I'm not stuck with someone who's sustained a life-threatening injury. Do you have any idea how stressful that was? Not to mention overtly homo-erotic."

"Don't worry - I get the feeling this is more of a dark comedy than a thriller" Cooper responded, pulling the heavy door closed behind them just as Garrick and his men burst onto the main containment floor, guns blazing.

"Red! Good of you to show up - I was beginning to think there was nobody home" Garrick drawled, his twisted face smirking in the gloom.

Reddington peered out of the glass. "Anslo" he said cheerily. "I thought I killed you. I guess the third time's the charm!"

"Yeah? Well bad luck you smug ponce" Garrick spat scathingly. "I'm gonna repeat on you like old episodes of Rosanne."

"What do you want, Anslo?" Reddington responded calmly.

Garrick cracked a ghastly smile. "Well mostly I want to eviscerate you and feed your entrails to starving dogs."

Reddington blinked. "Ah. Still holding a grudge I see."

"Look around, Red." Garrick gestured grandly around him. "There are a lot of people who want to see you dead and there's no one to stop me this time. Fitch is gone. In fact, if I recall he was splattered all over the inside of that box you're currently occupying – that was a messy business. So why don't you come out and save us all some time."

Reddington cocked his head to the side. "And if I refuse your offer, _enticing_ though it is?"

"Then I start rounding up every suit I can find in this poky little dungeon and blow their brains out one by one – all your little pals at the FBI? How happy do you think they'll be to die for you, Red? You think your life is worth more than all of theirs? Tick tock Red!"

Reddington grimaced and turned to Cooper. "Harold…for the record, if things go to hell in a handbasket, which it seems they very well may, what are the chances of you giving me the code to this box?"

Cooper shook his head. "About the same as you wearing an outfit designed by LL Cool J."

Reddington looked back out at the containment floor. "I see. Let's just hope the nymphs stay put."

* * *

 

Back in the break room, the task force were becoming…restless.

"This is boring!" Samar whined. "I'm all for bondage but they've taken all the fun out of it."

"If I dislocate my knee I could probably reach round enough to get you off" Aram offered helpfully.

"I wanna spanking! I miss Cooper" Ressler whined.

"Guys… Did anyone notice that the criminal mastermind forgot to cuff me to anything?" Liz smirked. "I've got a paperclip and I know how to use it!"

"Um… I'd prefer something less sharp" Samar said, raising her eyebrows.

"I mean I'm gonna pick the locks on our cuffs, homewrecker" Liz shot back as Samar stuck out her tongue.

Soon they were all free, and Liz made quick work of the locked door.

"Where to?" she smiled triumphantly.

"Agent Navabi – want to make love on the Xerox machine?" Aram proposed shyly. "I'll get the wine!"

"Sure – and afterwards we can Xerox our asses and stick copies in the FBI newsletter! How about you, Liz? Can you think of any other humorous ways we could wreck our careers in law enforcement?" Samar asked cheerfully.

Liz smiled slowly. "I know just the thing. I'm going to sleep with one of the world's most wanted criminals."

* * *

 

_Back on the detainment floor…_

"Red? Where are you? Come back to me."

Reddington's eyes widened as Liz's plaintive voice rang out from across the detainment floor, ice settling in his gut. How did she get out? _Damnable, incorrigible minx!_

Garrick turned to look behind him as she came into view. "Well well well, what have we here?" he chuckled as she marched past him unseeing and unconcerned, straight to the box in which Red and Cooper stood.

She placed her hands on the glass and looked up at Reddington, her eyes wide and full of confusion. "I want you – come out now please!" She proclaimed.

He sighed as he knelt down next to the glass to meet her eye. She had lost his jacket, and had only her lilac shirt on over her underwear. "Lizzie" he murmured, smiling sadly. "What have you done eh?"

She giggled sweetly in response, leaning forward to huff a breath onto the glass before drawing a little heart in the condensation. Reddington closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the glass.

"This is quite fascinating" Garrick commented cheerily. "They said the drug was wild – let's try a little experiment, shall we?"

Reddington's eyes snapped open. "Anslo…" he spat in a warning tone.

Ignoring him, Garrick continued. "So it's the famous Lizzie, we meet again! Come here now, there's a good girl."

"Lizzie no – look at me Lizzie!" Reddington tried, but it was too late. Garrick had attracted her attention and she rose to her feet, walking towards him.

"My my, what long legs you have! Come here my dear, that's right, don't be afraid" Garrick continued in a sing song voice as she smiled and padded barefoot over to him.

Reddington's lip curled into a snarl as he watched the mercenary put his arm around her. "The fickleness of the women I love is only equaled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me" Reddington muttered under his breath.

Garrick laughed distractedly whilst running a knobbly, scarred finger down Liz's beaming face. "Who's that, Bruce Lee?"

"George Bernard Shaw" Reddington answered smoothly, "though I doubt you'll have come across him – he was a writer and a pacifist – not qualities you possess in abundance if memory serves. Tell me, after I put that bullet in your skull can you even write your own name?"

"I can as it happens" Garrick replied unaffectedly as he pulled Liz to him. "How about I carve it right onto her body Red, hmmm? What d'you reckon? You'd like that wouldn't you my dear" he said to Liz pinching her cheek in mock affection.

Reddington watched agonized as Liz simply giggled and nodded, oblivious to the danger she was in. "Anslo, I swear to God if you _touch_ her-" he growled.

"Now Red, I'm only giving the girl what she wants" the mercenary reasoned. "That's something I learned from you actually - never leave a woman wanting" he finished with a twisted smile.

Reddington's stomach crumpled in knots as he watched Liz in Garrick's arms, apparently enthralled by his mottled face and dull, milky eye. "I love a man with scars" she simpered.

Reddington smiled humorlessly. _In that case you should get a load of my back, sweetheart_ he thought bitterly.

Cooper grunted in disgust. "I can't watch this."

Reddington nodded. "Agreed – it won't be good for ratings."

"Oh Reeeeed?"

Reddington's eyes snapped back as Garrick positioned Liz in front of the box and rested the blade of a hunting knife on her cheek. "Do I have your attention or should FBI Barbie here and I get matching scars?"

"You have my attention, Anslo."

"I'm honored! Now here's what's going to happen. You're gonna come out of that box and I'm gonna ram that nancy-boy outfit so far down your throat you'll be shitting paisley."

Reddington nodded. "Ah. It's a good thing I removed my hat then" he responded drily.

Garrick cracked a smile. "That's right Red, waste time – I'm in no hurry. Leggie Lizzie and I can have a world of fun while we're waiting for you. Do you think she takes requests?"

Reddington paled. "Harold, now would be the time to give him the code" he said in a warning tone.

"Dammit Reddington, it's not that I won't – _I can't_. After the last breach we installed a two code system – I've only got half of it." He sighed and looked up, his expression tinged with fear. "The truth is…we can't open this box without Agent Ressler."

Reddington's head snapped round, his eyes blazing. "You're telling me that _her life_ \- that all our lives - are in the hands of a priapic, brainless oaf who's slipped on so many banana peels there's a print of his ass on the sidewalk in every yankee doodle town this side of Texas?"

Cooper winced. "That's about the size of it, yeah."

Garrick clapped his hands. "Oh well, you win some you lose some eh Red? Come here Lizzie my dear. Now you love me very much don't you Lizzie? You'd do exactly what I say?" She nodded, smiling, and Reddington's blood ran cold. "Good girl" Garrick drawled. "Now I want you to take this knife, hold it to your neck-"

"Anslo!" Reddington yelled. "Someone's paying you to do this – call them, tell them I'll give them whatever they want, anything!"

"and slit your own throat!" Garrick finished cheerily.

"ELIZABETH" Reddington boomed. "Stop sweetheart, don't do this! If you do, people will never find out the truth about the night of the fire, or our connection! They'll never find out the answer to the greatest mystery of all - what happened to your dog! I mean seriously, that mutt just vanished. Look at me. LOOK AT ME."

Reddington pressed his palms to the glass, staring out at her, his green eyes burning into her. Their eyes locked across the floor.

Liz smiled faintly, raised the knife…and jammed it into Garrick's thigh.

He yelped and fell backwards, clutching his leg. "GAH, bitch!" He gestured wildly at his men. "Don't just stand there – kill the girl! And make him watch."

Reddington's immense relief at Liz's sudden change of heart was short-lived as two of Garrick's men stepped forward and grabbed her arms roughly. She looked up at them, one then the other, smiling sweetly. "No kidding! I've always wanted to try a threesome" she giggled obliviously as the men looked in confusion from her to one another. "Hey you guys – anyone up for a spit-roast?!" she continued enthusiastically.

Reddington was so shocked he had a small coughing fit. Where exactly had she come across that term? Were it not for the extenuating circumstances he would seriously consider washing her mouth out with soap. The relatively vanilla fantasies he'd had about his sweet, beautiful guardian angel were starting to look a little different now… Hearing unhappy sounds from the box behind him, he turned briefly to see Cooper rocking back and forth with his fingers in his ears, humming tunelessly, his expression pained.

"Harold if it's any consolation, I doubt this situation could get much worse…" Reddington's head spun round as shouts rang out over the containment floor and Aram and Samar burst in holding wine bottles, trailed by Ressler, shuffling in awkwardly with his pants round his ankles. "I stand corrected" Reddington groaned.

He watched in fascinated horror as Aram and Samar approached Liz where she was attempting to demonstrate to two very confused mercenaries exactly how she would accommodate them both at the same time.

"A gang bang?" Samar purred. ""Can we join in?"

The men blinked as though they couldn't believe their luck, ignoring Garrick's screams from across the floor. "Well sure hon" one said "you look like you could suck the chrome off a tail pipe. But if your boyfriend here comes near me he'll be looking for his Johnson in the Washington Channel."

Aram looked crestfallen. "It's my hair, isn't it" he muttered as Samar shrugged and began massaging the shoulders of the goons in front of her while Liz undid their pants.

Cooper joined a stricken Reddington at the door of the box. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think – Agent Ressler is here and he has the other half of the code we need to get out. Garrick is down and Keen and Navabi are distracting his men…we could probably take them."

Reddington chewed the inside of his cheek. "It may surprise you to learn that I don't relish the prospect of using Agents Keen and Navabi as honey traps. It's a tawdry strategy that totally demeans them."

"No offense, but I think they're demeaning themselves just fine all on their own" Cooper responded slowly, just as Liz and Samar yanked the pants down both thugs, whooping like bachelorettes with a male stripper.

Reddington sighed. "At least they seem to have made up after their little altercation."

"Ah…you can say that again" Cooper said slowly, his eyes widening.

The two men watched, speechless and slack-jawed as Liz and Samar turned their attentions to one another, their lips meeting tentatively at first and then more passionately, their tongues dancing gracefully together while their hands worked their way down, exploring one another's bodies.

Reddington's brain suddenly became very fixated on Liz's absentee pants and the pathetic excuse for underwear she had on as Samar's hand trailed higher and higher up her bare thigh. He imagined Samar taking control of the younger agent as he might, learning her body and showing her… _Oh god he had to stop this. Think! Focus!_ It seemed that every man in the room, friend or foe, was mesmerized by the show they were putting on. Now was the time to strike.

He tapped lightly on the side of the box and whispered loudly "Agent Ressler… Ressler! Donny… _Donny_ come here, there's a good boy." He watched as the ginger agent shuffled over to the box with a stupid grin on his face. "Donald… are you wearing _Avengers_ boxer shorts? Is that Ultron on the front? For some reason I find that quite offensive…."

Reddington shook his head and put on the sternest voice he could muster. "Director Cooper and I are very unhappy with you Donald, we'll need to punish you. You'd like that, wouldn't you Donny?"

Ressler nodded enthusiastically.

"Ok then" said Reddington. "First you're going to do something for us. You need to get us out Donald. You're going to input your code with Director Cooper's and open this box. What's your code, Donny? It's ok, you can tell me."

"Olive oil" Ressler responded promptly.

Reddington sighed and smiled patiently. "No Donald, that's a condiment." He paused and grimaced before forcing the next words out of his mouth. "Donald, if you tell me the code Director Cooper and I will give you such a good spanking you won't be able to sit down for a week. Director Cooper may even use his handcuffs-"

He broke off as he heard a retching sound coming from Cooper behind him.

"Olive oil!" Ressler said happily, bouncing up and down on his heels like an excited puppy. "Olive oil olive oil olive oil!"

Reddington frowned and turned around to Cooper. "Harold, what is your half of the code?"

"Popeye" Cooper responded immediately.

"Popeye" Reddington repeated slowly. "As in Popeye the sailor man. And it didn't occur to you that the second half of the code might be Olive Oil. What kind of show are you running here Harold? Is this an elite government security task force or a damned nursery school? My grandmother's outhouse had better security."

"I could remind you that the only time we've ever had a problem with security is when the criminals you've pissed off have come looking for you" Cooper responded heatedly. "But I suggest we get out of here before Agents Keen and Navabi do something they'll really regret."

Reddington smiled nostalgically. "Personally I've never regretted the Sapphic encounters I've had, but then I was in more of a voyeuristic role…"

"Agent Ressler!" Cooper snapped. "Enter the codes Popeye and Olive Oil and get us out of here now!"

"Yessir!" Ressler's salute was so well executed one could almost forget his pants were still round his ankles; above the waist, he was a consummate professional.

Cooper and Reddington readied their weapons as Ressler shuffled over to the code box, and burst out guns at the ready as soon as the heavy door creaked open. They needn't have bothered, really. Garrick remained on the floor cursing in a pool of his own blood, while his men were still drooling over Liz and Samar. When Reddington and Cooper exited the box the mercenaries attempted to move, and promptly fell over with their pants round their ankles.

Reddington shook his head. "Is there no one here capable of keeping their pants on?" He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Aram gesturing gleefully at his own pants which were, thankfully, still intact. "Aram, I am forever in your debt" Reddington finished, his voice strangely emotional.

"What are we going to do with the intruders?" Cooper inquired.

"I have an idea" Reddington answered darkly. "Put Anslo in the box."

"That's probably safest for now" Cooper responded, dragging the scowling mercenary into the cage.

Reddington bent and picked up the wine where Aram and Samar had left it. He studied the bottle thoughtfully for a moment and then turned to Anslo in the box. When he spoke his voice was quiet and menacing, a tone that made those listening feel both frightened a little bit aroused.

"You know Anslo… Ordinarily I would just empty a magazine into your head at this point – I'm sure that would do the trick. But you made this personal, Anslo. You came after people I care about. You violated them, and most importantly, your little stunt caused my affections to be trifled with. I don't like trifle, Anslo. I think we'll give you a taste of your own medicine."

Suddenly he grabbed Garrick's men and poured the wine down their throats, before dragging them to the box, shoving them in with him, and closing the door.

"Reddington, you can't! It's cruel and unusual!" Cooper cried.

"It's certainly unusual" Reddington responded cheerily as Garrick's intoxicated men advanced lasciviously on the helpless, scar-faced mercenary. "As for cruel… he should be grateful I didn't throw in the hunting knife he held to Agent Keen's throat. Otherwise dear old Anslo would probably be departing this world missing certain vital organs."

Ignoring Cooper's splutters, Reddington turned to Aram. "Agent Mojtabai, perhaps you'd be good enough to input a new set of codes for the box. The first one is "Titania. T-I-T-A-N-I-A." He turned back to Anslo in the box. "Can you guess what the second code is, Anslo? Here's a clue: midsummer night's dream."

Garrick looked stricken. "Er…Bottom?"

Reddington laughed hollowly. "Very good! I'd watch yours, if I were you."

With that, Cooper, Reddington and the lustful agents made their way back to the main floor, the howls from the box echoing behind them.

* * *

 

Once upstairs, Cooper sighed at the sight of his giggling task force. "What are we going to do with this lot then?"

Reddington studied the team. "They seem to have calmed down a little. Let me try something. "Donald, in the name of all that is holy, pull your damn pants up" he said sternly.

They watched as Ressler shrugged innocently before dutifully pulling up his pants and fastening his belt.

"Thank God for that!" Cooper exclaimed. "I wonder what the hell did this to them."

Reddington looked thoughtful. "You know there was something that Garrick said… about there being a lot of people who want me dead."

"That can't be a surprise" Cooper snorted.

"Indeed not" Reddington countered smoothly. "However, it made me think that he probably had help. Someone on the inside to plant the spiked wine. This imbecilic caper has the Cabal written all over it. Harold, are there any new staff members? Any transfers or unfamiliar faces?"

Cooper paused. "Come to think of it, Agent Puck is new, and he's been acting strangely."

"How so?"

"Well, nothing really suspicious, except he does have about ten cell phones, and his bag tested positive for explosive residue a couple of times. Oh, and I think I saw a sawn-off shotgun in his desk a while back."

Reddington rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, there was a yelp from a nearby office and the sound of a paper shredder.

Cooper and Reddington peered around the door and saw a short man with the appearance of a slightly misshapen pixie in a suit furtively feeding files through the shredder.

"The unfortunately named Agent Puck, I presume" Reddington smiled wolfishly.

"Don't do anything crazy now, I was just doing what I was told!" the agent gabbled.

"Yes, just as I'm sure you were told to shred the evidence of the tainted wine – no doubt those Machiavellian morons were stupid enough to put the wine through on bureau expenses." Reddington stepped forward, towering over the tiny man. "Now, Agent Puck, is the time you start singing like the proverbial canary."

The man nodded furiously. "Like I said, I was just following orders! But don't worry, your people will be fine. The drug wears off after a few hours, like any hallucinogen. They just need to drink water and wait it out."

Reddington nodded, relieved. "I have the utmost respect for hallucinogens, I much prefer them to stimulants - and indeed why would I require artificial stimulants when my life is already so…stimulating-" he said pointedly, "but I have to say this one hasn't been much fun."

"Perhaps for you" Samar interjected, "but from where we're standing? It's fucking hilarious!" she spluttered and the four agents fell about laughing uncontrollably.

"You know" said Cooper - "you can forget about your blacklist for a little while, cause I'm going to bury this lot under so much paperwork their grandchildren will be helping them type up their reports."

"Probably not the punishment Agent Ressler had in mind" Reddington responded. He went to the water cooler, and filled cups for the agents and for himself. It really had been a scorching day. "Right! Harold, keep an eye on the nymphs. I'm taking Agent Keen to her office to find her pants. I imagine she'll be somewhat unhappy to find herself without them when she sobers up."

"No way!" Liz cried. "Much easier access like this – pants suck, I don't need to wear them" she said, to whoops of appreciation from her colleagues.

"That may be so, but _I_ need you to wear them. _I_ insist." Reddington said firmly, escorting her away from the others.

By the time they reached her office, Reddington was starting to feel distinctly warm. He could feel an uncharacteristic sweat beading on the back of his neck; his heart rate was higher than it had been throughout the entire saga and he began to feel light-headed. "Lizzie…" he began slowly. "Did you, by any chance, happen to put some of that wine in my cup when I wasn't looking?"

She said nothing, and simply smiled that sweet little smile.

" _You little…Minx!_ " he murmured.

* * *

 

_A couple of hours later…_

Liz and Samar left the black site that evening in awkward silence. Aram hadn't stopped stammering since they sobered up, and was settling in for hours' worth of testing on the computer system to check defenses after the breach. Ressler had locked himself in his office and was refusing point blank to come out.

"So…" Samar began. "That was…interesting. I'm sorry I called you a whiny bitch."

Liz smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I punched you in the face! Um...can I ask…have you ever kissed a woman before?"

Samar laughed. "Once or twice. In college. You?"

Liz shook her head. "No."

"Did I turn you?" Samar said playfully. "Or do you only have eyes for Reddington."

"What do you mean?" Liz said sharply.

"Oh come on. You were all over him. He must have thought all his Christmases had come at once."

Liz's cheeks turned bright pink. "I don't know what you're talking about!" she said defensively.

"It's alright Liz" Samar said, her tone serious now. "You can tell me the truth. I know he drank some of the wine too. You two were in your office together. Alone. Want to tell me what happened? Of course I'll understand if you don't want to talk about it. It must have been pretty intense. What with three season's worth of sexual tension."

Liz shook her head. "To be honest, it didn't even affect him. Nothing happened!"

Samar raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Nothing?"

Liz shrugged. " I mean, he kissed me, stroked my face, held my hand a bunch of times, told me he'd always be there for me, told me I was his future, his fantasy, his ray of light and his way home, that when he looks at the north star he thinks of me, that he'd do whatever it takes to protect me, that'd give his life to save mine, he made suggestive comments about my outfit, stared into my eyes, at my breasts and legs, felt me up, talked about sex and the G spot, recited sexually-themed love poetry, said he'd collapse into rubble if he lost me, and kind of implied that he couldn't live without me…" She paused and took a breath. "But none of that is out of the ordinary. It's like he was immune to it or something. He probably doesn't even have a heart."

Samar rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "You know there could be another explanation."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Maybe he's always been in love with you. That would explain why his behavior didn't change when he took the drug."

Liz scoffed dismissively. "That's the craziest thing I've heard all day. I'm an expert profiler, I'd know if he was in love with me."

" _That's_ the craziest thing you've heard today? Whatever, Liz."

As the two agents walked across the parking lot into the night they could just hear the sound of a voice being carried on the wind from the roof of the black site, as rich and deep as whisky.

" _Lizzie_."

The End.


End file.
